


Floor It

by mediwitch3



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Coming In Pants, M/M, Prank Wars, Rutting, Soft Eddie Diaz, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24918028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediwitch3/pseuds/mediwitch3
Summary: The rivalry between the Phi Alpha Mu and Delta Epsilon Delta frats is legendary.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 358





	Floor It

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @michaelgrantnash
> 
> I have never been in or attended greek life so ignore inaccuracies; the frats in this are made up except TKE and Tri Delta is a real sorority, not that it matters

Buck is fully ready to escalate this until it goes too far. Over his dead body are those douchebags from Phi Alpha going to have the last word—especially that smug dick Eddie.

He’s a little annoyed that Chim didn’t want to come with him to defend DED’s honor, just laughed in his face and went back to texting Buck’s sister.

It means he has to carry all these fucking water balloons alone, and they’re _heavy_. He’s no slouch, but he went a little overboard and the crate he’s holding is digging into his fingers, leaving little red welts in the creases of his knuckles.

Eddie’s car is easy to spot, a behemoth of a pickup truck in the parking lot outside the gym, black and shiny with Texas plates glaringly obvious amongst the California crowd. Buck dumps the crate next to a car a few rows down, finds a spot he won’t easily be seen but can still aim, and starts chucking balloons as hard as he can manage.

The first one lands with a bright pink splatter over one of the tail lights, pieces of rubber clinging to the wet paint. He throws another, red this time, and it hits the back windshield. He throws two more, orange and purple, and they land in the bed of the truck.

He keeps throwing until the back end is almost completely coated, tiny slivers of the original paint job peeking between bright colors like obsidian, absorbing light. He moves over a few rows, the crate much lighter now, so he can get the sides of the truck.

The crate empties more quickly than Buck would like, and he goes over to examine his handy work. The front end is a little less coated than the back, because he ran out of balloons, but overall he knows Eddie’s going to be furious.

He can’t wait.

He throws the crate in the dumpster to hide the evidence, then finds a place he can crouch until Eddie comes out of the gym—it’s not weird that Buck knows his schedule, okay? It’s espionage.

Buck timed it pretty well, it’s only about fifteen minutes before Eddie appears, sweaty and golden in a loose black tank top and basketball shorts. Buck drags his eyes away from the shadows that sink into the muscles of Eddie’s biceps to watch his face when Eddie comes to a complete stop a few feet away from his car.

Buck grins to himself as Eddie starts turning red, eyebrows drawing down and mouth twisting with unadulterated rage.

“Buck!” He shouts, and Buck gasps a tiny giggle, breath stuck in his throat where he’s trying not to make noise, “I’ll kill you!”

Buck collapses on the ground against the tire of the car he’s hiding behind, eyes streaming with laughter. He gasps for breath, clutching at his stomach as he tries not to give away his position. He hears Eddie start walking away from his car, probably heading back to the house to figure out how to fix this, and Buck sits there for a minute to calm down.

Once he can breathe again, he gets up and hastens back to the house. He has to prepare for retaliation.

—

The rivalry between the Phi Alpha Mu and Delta Epsilon Delta frats is legendary. It started in September of 1952 when Jonathan Ransom, the then-president of Phi Alpha, decided the best way to prove who the best frat on campus was was to replace all the photos in the DED house with pictures of Harry Truman—this cost a lot of money and time and started a prank war that would last decades.

Buck takes it very seriously. Phi Alpha may have raised more money at the charity car wash in August, but DED has the highest collective GPA on campus—something Buck’s _very_ proud of and will die defending. The only reason they got more cars this year was because Eddie took his stupid shirt off and doused himself in soap suds, which, frankly, Buck thinks is cheating.

That’s why on the September anniversary of their intra frat prank war, he went and replaced all of the pictures in the Phi Alpha house with pictures of him, shirtless. And he hacked into Eddie’s computer to change the background. And from there he remotely changed the lockscreen on Eddie’s phone.

Chimney says Buck’s a little too fixated on revenge against Eddie, but Buck knows that that’s how he’ll break them all. Eddie’s the president, and when he inevitably forfeits, the whole of Phi Alpha will bow to Buck and Buck alone (because his brothers are _no help_ ) and victory will taste so so sweet.

—

It’s been two weeks since the paint balloons, and retribution still hasn’t been delivered. Buck’s starting to get annoyed. The point of a prank war is for _both_ parties to participate, it doesn’t work if he’s the only one fighting.

Eddie hasn’t even looked at him, not at the gym, not at flag football, not in their shared polisci class—just ignores him when he can and looks at the spot over Buck’s shoulder when he has to talk to him.

Maybe annoyed isn’t the right word. Buck feels antsy. Feels himself checking Eddie extra hard at flag football, sees himself adding extra weight to his dumbbells in the gym, hears himself speaking up more in class—he just wants Eddie to look at him, dammit, and if he doesn’t soon Buck’s gonna do something stupid.

—

Stupid comes on the night of Tri Delta’s annual Halloween bash. DED has some weird solidarity thing with them, so they’ve been helping supply them with alcohol since before Buck rushed, which means they have to hang out and haul the kegs off if something goes amiss.

He’s not on frosh duty tonight, so he’s actually had a couple drinks and is feeling pleasantly loopy, eyes half-focused and the world just a hair tilted to the left, when Eddie walks in the door with three of his brothers.

Something hot expands in his chest, his t shirt feeling too tight and the lights overhead too bright, casting a halo around Eddie’s dark hair and making his skin glow brown against his white button down.

Buck knocks back the rest of his drink—he’s not quite drunk enough to make a scene, but he’s not exactly sober enough to stop himself from marching over and grabbing Eddie by the bicep.

Eddie blinks up at him, eyes dark and shiny, lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. He raises a brow.

“Can I help you?” He asks, voice raised over the noise. Buck forces his face into a glare, muscles feeling more sluggish than usual.

“What are you doing here?” It sounds stupid once it’s out. Eddie clearly thinks so too.

“It’s a party,” he says slowly, enunciating, “we were invited.”

Buck frowns some more. “I didn’t invite you.”

“Jesus Christ,” one of Eddie’s brothers mutters, and shoves past them. The other two follow, shooting Eddie a smirk as they make their way toward the keg. Eddie glares at their retreating backs.

Buck realizes suddenly that he’s still gripping Eddie’s bicep, and he should probably let go, but he doesn’t. Doesn’t want Eddie to walk away and keep ignoring him.

“Buck,” he blinks, looks down at Eddie’s ridiculously perfect face, “when was the last time you drank water?”

Buck licks his lips, his mouth dry. “Um.”

Eddie nods. “I thought so, come on.”

Eddie reaches a hand up to remove Buck’s from his arm, but doesn’t let go, just drags him through the crowd to the kitchen where he grabs a cup, fills it with water, and then continues to drag Buck outside.

He’s got nice hands, big, and they fit in Buck’s better than he expected them too. Eddie gives his shoulder a little nudge, waits for Buck to drop onto the step of the back porch before he sits next to him and hands the water over.

“Drink that and be quiet,” he says. He doesn’t have to shout out here, the music nothing but a muffled thumping behind them and the yard in front all but empty.

It’s at least sixty degrees, and Buck doesn’t feel cold, but this is California, where sixty is the new thirty, and Buck’s an outlier with the Philly curve on his vowels anyway.

He sips the water, knows Eddie’s right about staying hydrated, and feels the heat of him sinking into his right side. He was sweating in the house, but out here it’s cooling at his temples and starting to feel dry again. Eddie doesn’t say anything.

Buck finishes the glass of water, sets it by his feet. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask,” Eddie says, “might not answer.”

“Why haven’t you gotten back at me for paint ballooning your car?”

Eddie snorts. “That’s what’s important to you?”

Buck frowns again, uncertainty settling in his chest. “Yes?”

Eddie sighs, goes quiet for a moment. He stares out across the yard, and Buck watches his profile in the shadows, long nosed and high cheeked, mouth pursed in a little scowl. He’s got stubble on his sharp jaw, something Buck has tried in vain to grow and not been successful at so far. Buck wonders what it would feel like under his teeth.

“I’m tired, Buck,” Eddie says at last. It’s so quiet it almost gets caught by the wind, and Buck blinks.

“Tired of what?”

“Of this,” Eddie sighs, scrubbing a hand over his hair. It sticks up at the back and Buck’s hand twitches. “Of playing this game with you.”

“I’m confused,” Buck tells him, because he is. He’s more sober now than when they first came out here, but the alcohol is still souping his brain, making things hard to process. Were they playing a game?

“The pranks, it’s—” Eddie heaves a huge breath, and his ears look pink, “look, I’m just gonna say this as plainly as I can: I like you. I played along with the prank thing at first, because I liked having your attention, and you were having fun, but it’s too much now. I don’t wanna pretend I don’t feel like this about you. I don’t wanna wallpaper your room with sticky notes or hack your email so your signature says ‘fuck you president Morris’ or throw paint balloons at your car. I want to go on a date with you. I want something real.”

Buck’s mind is completely blank, has no idea what to say.

“I’m straight,” he blurts. His mouth tingles, and it feels like a lie. Eddie sighs again.

“Okay,” he stands up, throwing his shadow over Buck’s body, “I’ll leave you alone then. But you have to leave me alone too. This goes both ways, Buck.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just walks back into the sorority house without a backwards glance.

Maybe sixty degrees is cold after all.

—

Buck’s fine, he swears. He doesn’t care that Eddie hasn’t shown up to flag football all week, or that he’s switched seats in polisci so Buck has to turn around to look at him.

He’s not upset Eddie sent Carlos to the monthly campus fraternity council meeting in his place, when he usually sits next to Buck and does a terrible job of ignoring Buck’s truly hilarious commentary.

He knows Eddie needs time. He gets it. But he also—misses him. He never realized how deeply entwined their lives were until he looks over his shoulder at the gym for the fourth time, expecting to see Eddie, and sees some idiot from TKE instead.

It’s stupid. He’s stupid. So what if Eddie’s the only one at flag football who can keep up with him? So what if they make a great team and so what if Eddie looks good sweaty and panting and beaming under the sun and so what if Buck wants to see him look like that leaning over him, hair flopped over his forehead and eyes crinkled and muscles bulging, so what—

Anyway, Buck’s fine.

—

“Yea, it’s back there,” Chimney says, “I can’t reach it.”

Buck opens the door to the supply closet and steps inside, turning on the light and looking around. “Chim, I don’t see it.”

“That’s too bad.” Buck whirls around as the door shuts, Chimney disappearing from view. The lock clicks as Buck’s hand meets the doorknob, and he rattles it fruitlessly.

“Chim,” he yells, “what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m sick of you moping!” Chimney calls back.

“So you lock me in a closet?” Buck asks, incredulous, “how is that helpful?”

“All will be revealed in due time!” Chimney shouts, and then his footsteps recede. Buck swears he can hear him laughing.

—

Buck’s phone battery is at 23% an hour later, when the doorknob turns. He looks up from the floor where he’s sitting, the door flinging open and someone stumbling through. It’s closed again before he can get to his feet.

Eddie looks as shocked as Buck is too see him, eyebrows kissing his hairline and a harried set to his mouth. He stares at Buck for a second, then turns around to bang a fist on the door.

“Carlos!” He thunders, “If you don’t open this door—”

“It’s for your own good,” Carlos says, voice muffled, “we’re tired of this! Neither of you come out until you kiss and makeup!”

Buck feels his cheeks get warm, sees a flush creeping up Eddie’s neck and pinking the shells of his ears. His phone pings, and he drags his eyes away from the set of Eddie’s shoulders to see a text from Chimney.

_If you have to pee let me know, I bought handcuffs._

Buck swipes a hand over his face, tucks his phone into his pocket and stares at the floor. This was obviously a long time coming, but Buck isn’t sure why he’s even here. It’s not like he was the one to throw the first punch, so to speak.

Eddie leans his forehead against the door with a thump, shoulders slumping. Buck snorts.

“You really hate being around me, huh?”

Eddie doesn’t turn around. “Buck, you know that’s not what this is about.”

“Really?” Buck asks. “Then why have we been parent-trapped?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says to the door, “Carlos thinks I’ve been whiny, but you’re here too, so my guess is you have something to tell me.”

Buck swallows, passes a hand over the back of his neck, “I don’t.”

“No?” Eddie finally turns around. His face is still pink, and makes his brown eyes bright under dark brows. “Nothing at all?”

Buck swallows, feels embarrassment welling hot and heavy in his chest. “I don’t think so.”

Eddie shrugs, drops to the floor in front of Buck. “Then I guess we’re stuck here.”

Buck stares across at him. The closet’s not huge, maybe 10 square feet, and there’s shelves squashing them in. There’s a window above Buck’s head, and a light over them, so at least it’s well lit, but there’s really not much room to manoeuvre, and Buck’s acutely aware of the scant inches between their knees.

Eddie stares back, the flush receding from his cheeks and ears, leaving him that stupid glowy color that drives Buck crazy. Silence stretches between them for a few long minutes.

Buck lurches across and grabs Eddie’s face before the thought is fully formed in his mind. Their lips meet at an odd angle, but Eddie turns his face immediately, slotting their mouths together and exhaling hard against Buck’s nose. He opens his mouth before Buck gets the chance, hands wrapping tight around Buck’s ribs and pushing him against the shelves at his back.

He climbs into Buck’s lap, leaning up on his knees so he can bear down into Buck’s mouth, tongue catching against Buck’s teeth and licking up along Buck’s tongue. Buck’s hands are gripping Eddie’s hair tight, his chest heaving as Eddie presses ever deeper into his mouth.

He makes a noise when Eddie’s hands make their way under his shirt, a shock of cold against his ribs, goosebumps erupting all over his body. He moves a hand from Eddie’s hair to his waist, knocking him down so he’s sitting in Buck’s lap.

Buck’s hips leap up of their own accord, totally out of his control, to grind his erection against Eddie’s. It feels so good, sends a spike of something hot through his belly, so he does it again, and again, groans into Eddie’s mouth and lets him swallow it.

Eddie pulls back to pant against his mouth, presses their foreheads together, eyes tight shut and the bridge of his nose pink and he ruts down against Buck too. It’s the hottest thing Buck’s ever seen, and he tugs the hair at the nape of Eddie’s neck, feels the noise Eddie makes in his own chest and watches his Adams Apple bob as he swallows.

They’re moving without any real finesse, grinding hard against each other and whining occasionally, and Buck brings both hands down to cup Eddie’s ass through the denim of his jeans. Eddie shoves his hips down harder and falls forward to face plant against Buck’s neck.

“‘M close,” he mumbles into the skin, and Buck shudders when he lets his teeth scrape over the pulse hammering out of his jugular.

He doesn’t say anything, lets Eddie suck a bruise onto him and carefully slides a hand into Eddie’s pants. His cock is hard and velvety, a little slick where he’s been leaking against his boxers, and Eddie whines, high pitched, as Buck starts stroking him off.

It’s an odd angle, one Buck’s never been privy to, and his wrist is cramping a little against Eddie’s belt, but when Eddie’s cock jerks and spills over his hand, Buck ascends to a new plain of existence.

He spills in his own pants not a minute later, Eddie’s teeth still sunk deep in his skin, shuddering against him.

Buck doesn’t remove his hand from Eddie’s pants as they come down, just holds his soft cock and counts his breaths.

Eddie starts laughing after a moment, leans back to look Buck in the eye. Buck smiles helplessly down at him. “What?”

“Just—” Eddie giggles, has to bite his lip to get himself under control, “can we go on a date now?”

Buck huffs his own laugh. “Yeah, I guess we can.”

Eddie grins, and Buck can’t help kissing him. They get lost in it pretty easily, Eddie tastes like everything Buck wants, and he loves the way Eddie’s cock twitches in his hand like he’s trying to get hard again.

Eddie kisses him once more, pulls back. “How are we getting out of here?”

Buck finally pulls his hand out of Eddie’s pants, wipes his hand off on Eddie’s leg. “I’ll text Chim.”

_You can let us out now._

_-Are you sure?_

_Yeah we need new pants lmao_

_-TMI_


End file.
